


In A Room The Size Of Cupboard

by ThatSoChangeableChick



Series: DC Drabble [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Days In The Manor, Gen, Jason Todd is Robin, Wayne Manor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8765866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSoChangeableChick/pseuds/ThatSoChangeableChick
Summary: Altogether his first few days in the Manor could've been worse.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello one and all,  
> This isn't altogether in character but I really like it so, here it is!  
> I'm finding a true love for little Jay so expect more of the smallest angry bird :]

When Jason was a little kid he didn’t have a toaster. He had this semi-smashed microwave that didn’t survive its third year in the Gotham winter. When Jason arrived at the Manor the sheer space, the empty décor, the pristine ornaments, the endless silence was like an explosion of wrongness trembling down to his fingertips. Jason didn’t sleep his first night there, or the second but by the third Jason passed out.

He’d huddled inside the closet, found it much too spacious and shoved in his new bedside table inside as another security precaution. Jason had already pushed his new mahogany desk against the front door, barricaded himself inside – the window? He’d taped down the curtains because he’d already gotten the masking tape out from habit and had no holes to plug. And when it rained, Jason didn’t feel it – didn’t even know unless he looked outside.

Jason heard the butler – a real British butler who wanted Jason’s coat, told him to take his mud caked shoes off and disapproved when he didn’t eat – every so often through the door. He wanted to come in but when Bruce had tried on the first day there, Jason had a freak out and wouldn’t let anyone back in.

It was stupid but Jason had been certain that after Bruce had come to show him around, the actual feeling in his toes and nose, the absence of mildew suffocating each breath, the large bed that Jason had only seen in shop windows when he left to pickpocket in the high-end part of town; that Bruce had only returned to take it away again. Like some cruel torture and Jason had been grateful just to get out of the cold.

Jason was afraid, really afraid about what he’d have to do to let Bruce keep it. And so, Jason locked them out, refused anyone to come in so this new status quo could settle and Jason could at least feel it. So, he could really get a feel for it. Yeah, Jason was starving but what was new? He was warm and content, and there was so much room, and it was so warm, and Jason just wanted to sleep under the robes stacked in the walk-in closet because he was so warm.

Soon, when Jason couldn’t take starvation he’d come out. His chest puffed out because he’d gotten to experience this life, how many kids from East End could say that? So, Jason tugged on five t-shirts but it felt weird so he settled on less but there were so many rights there, and he picked one special lucky t-shirt that Jason decided was his from then on and nobody could take it from him.

Bruce came about on the third day. But like in earnest, no longer just knocking on the door and waiting for Jason to answer. This time he stated, muffling through the thick door, “Jason. I’m coming in.”

“No!” Jason wasn’t prepared to give it up yet.

Bruce was so close to the door, Jason heard him sigh. “It’s been three days, Jason. I need to know you’re alright in there.” The handle moved and Jason stuffed on the sturdiest socks he could find because he wanted to know what it was like to go bare foot because you can and not because your shoes were stolen.

“I’m okay, really – I got this, I don’t want to come out yet!” he shot back, heart thundering wildly and his palms sweaty as he shoved on the thickest boots he could find. “You can’t make me!” Jason barked – but Bruce could, Bruce was a buffed-up adult, and buffed up adults who had Bruce’s fists always got what they wanted.

Didn’t mean Jason would take it standing, no. It was about the only thing that’d kept him in control of the situation – if Jason didn’t just have to react but he fought back.

“Jason,” Bruce sighed again, the door knocking against the desk Jason had shoved under the handle, “It’s been three days since you’ve last eaten anything. I’m coming in,” Bruce tried. He shoved harder at the door and the table screeched as it scraped on the floorboards.

Jason panicked, ducked into the large closet, slammed the door shut and stuffed the nightstand he’d brought inside as a barricade to it. He’d just hidden underneath a line of robes and long ass shirts when Bruce knocked on the closet – further signifying that Jason was at his last line of defense. “I’m not hungry!” Jason yelled.

It was a lie – Jason was starving but he at least wanted a chance to sneak into the kitchen and steal food, so he could lock himself back inside the room. He’d already wanted to a couple of times. He was certain someone fanned steaming meals at his air vents and he’d overcome the urge each time – expecting a trap.

“I highly doubt that,” Bruce returned. It was true, Bruce always knew the truth. He would ruin everything. Jason was lucky he’d been allowed to remain alone up until this point. “I’m opening this door, and I don’t want you to throw anything at me – do you understand?”

Jason flung his weapon, three coatracks at Bruce’s head.

Bruce easily batted them away, exasperated but maybe amused at Jason’s antics. He knew how pathetic Jason’s attempts were and Jason readied others from his ammo station. “I asked you not to throw anything at me,” Bruce mentioned.

Jason swallowed, curled into the back corner as he was, Jason still sneered, an ugly look no doubt. Jason knew from experience, “Never agreed though,” he shot back.

“True,” Bruce tapped the nightstand in his path. But he didn’t move it, not for now at least. “Look at me, Jason,” Bruce forged forward. Jason shouldn’t have looked away in the first place, it was stupid – Bruce was an unknown, you don’t turn your back on anyone – not even Mum, unless she was just after her medicine then it was alright, usually.

Jason glared back. He felt fat tears in his eyes and Jason blinked, they were gone.

His fingers pattered on the nightstand while he said, “You need to eat something. And you need to get out of this room. Alfred’s prepared a whole range of meals for you – he wants to find your favorite. That sound good?” Bruce’s eyes were clear, not addled, not distrustful, not broken, not wet – they were clear.

Jason didn’t know what to do with that. It shot warning marks off in his head – he didn’t know how to react to it. Anything Jason imagined wouldn’t cut close to what Alfred – a butler, a goddamn butler; made his skin crawl in pure wrongness – had cooked. To Jason a lot of food was a half-eaten meatball sub he’d found in a dumpster behind a diner, and he’d gotten to eat all of it! He’d been sedated for a couple days straight, managed to liberate about a dozen cars those two nights and his neighbor had even thrown out an old blanket – Jason hadn’t cared why but damn it was warm.

And here Bruce was, just handing it out – more things than Jason could imagine – like it was nothing. Nothing at all, barely dirt off his heel but Jason knew that it wasn’t nothing; this was a lot. And it was being shown like it was nothing so Jason wasn’t prepared, didn’t shoot it down straight away and now he was here; owing Bruce everything for these few short days in paradise.

“I won’t do it – I ain’t owing you anything,” Jason screamed, too brash, too heated and he couldn’t hold it in, “You can’t make me!” But Bruce could, Bruce really could make him and Jason didn’t – he couldn’t become one of those kids, who’d traded everything just for a little comfort. He wouldn’t end up like them, he didn’t want dead eyes and scratchy voices from hands clasping around throats to hold them still and Jason couldn’t do that. If he fell that far he wouldn’t survive – Jason knew he wouldn’t.

Bruce frowned and Jason’s fists clenched, hands straggling for purchase on his knees because this was it, the table would turn and Jason would find he’d just handed over a flush set. “The only thing I want from you Jason is to eat something,” he said seriously, “I promise you no harm will come to you here.”

“You can’t promise that!”

Bruce arched an eyebrow, “Why not?” he prompted.

“’Cause it’s impossible, don’t lie to me – don’t fucking lie! If you want something just say it but I ain’t giving it so forget it!” Bruce’s face had softened and instantly, Jason scrubbed at his eyeballs – this was wrong, why was he crying? He couldn’t do this here.

“Jason,” Bruce sighed, making short work of moving the nightstand out from his path.

Jason shook his head, burying deeper into the cupboard. “You can’t make me, I know it ain’t right – you can’t make me,” he repeated, chest constricted and really wanting to be under his sink again, enclosed in the damp, frigid darkness that was only heated by the puffs of his breaths.

Bruce sunk to his knees beside Jason but he was unable to hold back his flinch. He didn’t want to do this but Jason was afraid that he might, he might just to keep the warmness in his appendages. “Please don’t make me,” Jason whimpered, arms clenching around his knees tighter, knocking into the very back of the cupboard.

“I won’t. I will never make you do something you don’t want to do, unless it’s for your own safety. Do you understand that?” Bruce insisted, voice soft. His eyes were wet, but not like on the streets not glazed but softened, tender with his hands flat against his thighs. It wasn’t threatening but Jason knew how quick this could change.

It sounded like a fairytale. Jason wanted to believe it but stories were just that, stories.

“I don’t believe you,” Jason got out. He scrubbed at the fat tears blurring his vision.

Bruce rocked back onto his heels, towering over Jason but only to step back and away, “Then let me show you,” he indulged lightly.

And Jason really wanted to believe him. Who said that maybe Batman wasn’t the exception to the rule, if anyone was? It would be Batman. Jason smeared nose gunk over his face with a loud sniffle and nodded. Bruce smiled at him, stepping back and out.

He waited for Jason but didn’t push him to go quicker than his glacial pace outside the dry, warm confines of his room. He kept repeating that if anyone would be the hero in the fairytale than it would be Batman. Batman didn’t hurt the good people and Bruce had decided Jason was good enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know. There is also a pain in my chest.  
> Feedback Me ~*~*


End file.
